An interesting summer day
by nockout1021
Summary: Harry surprises Ginny, when there's nothing else to do.


"Hey, Ginny," Hermione said curiously from where she sat at Ginny's desk, staring out the window.

"Hmmm?"

It was breathlessly hot, and Hermione smiled at the younger girl, sprawled prone and spread-eagle on her bed. She lifted her hair off the back of her neck and held it in place on top of her head with a clip that was resting on the edge of Ginny's pencil cup. "If you could change your name to anything, what would it be?"

Ginny raised her head a fraction of an inch to look slittedly at Hermione. "First or last?"

"First. Since I assume I know what you'd change your LAST name to."

"Does it start with a 'P' and rhyme with otter?"

"That WAS my thought, yes."

Ginny grinned slyly. "Then maybe," she said evasively. "Elizabeth."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Why not. Then I could change it to a BUNCH of different things, like Liz. Or Beth. Could you see me as a Beth?"

Hermione considered. "Beth, definitely not. Liz, though... it's a possibility."

Ginny flopped her head back against the pillows. "BOLLOCKS it's hot," she said, with feeling.

Hermione smiled faintly. "Just because you're here," she said blandly, and Ginny rolled over to look at her.

"You think?"

"Well, I try to. Think what?"

"I'm hot."

"For that I'd say you'd have to ask Harry." Hermione's eyes twinkled. "Ms. Potter."

Ginny gave a dramatic sigh, full of deep melancholy. "It does sound nice, doesn't it."

"Very."

The room grew quiet as both girls ceased talking. It was almost too hot to talk. It was certainly too hot to do anything else. The boys had tried playing Quidditch earlier, but had flown back down and barged into the kitchen less than a half an hour later, demanding water and immediate attention. They had then retired to the living room to play long, lazy games of chess. Hermione was just wondering if they (Ron) might fancy a picnic when Ginny spoke up again.

"I kissed him, you know."

No, Hermione did NOT know. "Excuse me?" she said, wondering if perhaps the heat had interfered with her hearing.

Ginny leveled her a look, managing to look very serious and very casual at the same time. "You heard me."

"Yeah, but not properly. I thought you said you kissed Harry."

"I did."

Hermione turned fully in her seat to face the bed, shocked. "Ginny! When! What happened?!"

Ginny was quiet for a moment, thinking, then her face broke into a brilliant grin. Hermione almost envied her her memories, the ones she had yet to experience.

"It was the other day," Ginny went on, sounding a tad wistful. "I was in his and Ron's room, trying to find Ron's Potions essay on nightshade from last year to copy, and he came in and he was all, "What are you doing in here Ginny?" and I went into my whole 'I'm friends and cool and poised' routine, and said I could leave if he really didn't want me in there, and he was all, "No, no, it's fine, I was just changing to play Quidditch with Ron, help him practice," and I was sitting there on the bed, going, 'Changing... changing...?' and so then he pulled off his jumper—right in front of me! even though his back was to me—right in front of me!!—and changed into this really grungy t-shirt, and then he was doing all these stretches, and I think he forgot I was there, so I had to remind him, NATURALLY, because the days I let him forget me are long past, and so I was all all like, "How do you kiss someone?" before I knew it, and then I was like, "DAMN!" but there was nothing I could do 'cause I'd already said it, and made a huge prat of myself." She took a huge breath, and lapsed off into silence, chin on her hand.

"WELL?" Hermione said when she couldn't help it anymore; she'd been riveted. "What happened then?"

Ginny shook herself as though waking from a dream. "Then he gave me lessons," she said, very red in the face.

"NO."

"Yeah," she said, sounding almost miserable, though Hermione couldn't understand why. "Yeah, he DID. And I made up some lame-ass excuse about why I wanted to know, but I don't think he bought it—I don't know WHAT he bought, actually—and so he gave me step by step instructions, and I got all dizzy, and he put his hand on my back! and then he kissed me, and then Ron—DAMN RON!—shouted out from the yard that he was still WAITING-- b DAMN /b RON!!—so Harry was all like, "Oh, right, I'll be right down mate," and I was all like, "F---"

"Ginny!"

"—INE, so he left, and I was still completely immobile because I had just kissed sodding HARRY POTTER, and I couldn't let him leave and have his last impression of me be standing there like a Petrified person, so I was going, 'Say something, Ginny, SAY something,' and by the time I'd thought of something to say at ALL, he was halfway down the stairs and I was like, "Thanks for the lesson Harry!" like some PILLOCK or something, and it was horrible," she finished.

Hermione blinked. "Horrible?" she said. "It didn't sound horrible to me!" In fact, she was rather jealous. Damn Ron, indeed.

"Yeah, well, that's because you weren't there!" Ginny wailed, and Hermione was surprised to see a look of such despair on her face. "You couldn't see the way he looked at you when he was THIS CLOSE to kissing you, and you couldn't feel his hand on your cheek—you can't STILL feel his hand on your cheek, the GIT—and you couldn't feel your heart completely SHATTER when he stepped away, and you're not left with the knowledge that nothing'll EVER HAPPEN, and you're not wondering how you'll ever feel whole again, and you're not—"

"Ginny, wait a minute." Hermione was profoundly shocked. She knew Ginny still had a thing for Harry, and she knew it probably went beyond the pathetic title of "a thing," but she hadn't known it was THIS. "Calm down for a second, will you? It can't be as bad as you're making it."

"It CAN!" Ginny buried her head under a pillow and when Hermione removed the pillow (with no protest) she was alarmed to see tears running down Ginny's cheeks.

"Come here," she said simply, held out her arms, and Ginny crawled into them.

"I can't do it anymore," she wept into Hermione's shoulder, sounding broken past repair. Hermione vividly remembered something she herself had said once, a phrase her father had been fond of while she was growing up. i "The only things that can't be fixed are glass and broken hearts."

"What do you mean?" Ron had said. "Repario fixes glass, too, doesn't it? Geeze, Hermione, I'm surprised at you." /i

Be that as it may, Hermione thought grimly, holding Ginny why she cried, it still doesn't solve the matter of broken hearts. Harry, you idiot! I thought you were going to tell her!

"I can't keep pretending that it's OKAY that he doesn't notice me anymore! I can't keep pretending that I LOVE it when he ignores me, that it doesn't bother me to the point where I beat myself up over being such a pathetic git that I can't let this go! I can't keep pretending that I'm his friend, and that I'm okay with being ONLY that! I can't keep pretending—" Her voice dropped to a raspy whisper, and she beat her fist futilely against Hermione's arm. "I can't keep pretending that I don't LOVE him, Hermione, I just CAN'T!"

Hermione didn't know what to say to that, except, "Why don't you stop then? Why don't you just tell him everything that you just told me?"

Her answer was a hollow laugh. "Yeah. Because I'm sure THAT would go over well. I'm sure that he would want to know that I DIED when I kissed him, I liked it so much. I'm sure he'd want to know that every single time I see him it takes all my strength not to touch him. I'm sure he'd want to know that his best friend's little sister thinks he's the world's BIGGEST wanker of all time, and still manages to love him with all her heart at the same time." Another hollow laugh and more tears. "Yeah," she said flatly, at rock bottom. "I'm sure he'd want to know EXACTLY that."

"Actually, he would," a voice said softly.

The silence following was oppressive. Hermione closed her eyes, faint with the horror of it all. Ginny would never believe she hadn't set it all up. Ginny was going to KILL her. That, of course, was assuming Ginny herself didn't die of shame first. Hermione, gauging by the pressure with which Ginny gripped her hand, thought that option was not too impossible.

"Can I talk to you, Gin?" Harry said.

Ginny didn't say anything. Hermione prodded her. "I'm indisposed at the moment," Ginny finally mumbled with a commendable amount of dignity.

"Five minutes. To prove I'm not 'the world's biggest wanker of all time.'"

Ginny almost cracked a smile. "That'll take longer than five minutes," she murmured into Hermione's collarbone, then said it loud enough for him to hear.

"Maybe not. Try me?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, and pried herself away from Hermione, to whom she'd been clinging like a limpet. "Fine," she said haughtily, raising her chin and looking him in the eye.

Hermione marveled at her self-possession. It would take more courage than she, Hermione, had, to act so well if that had been her and Ron.

Speaking of her and Ron...

i Damn. /i

She looked at Ginny. "You going to be okay?" she whispered, tucking a strand of red hair behind her friend's ear.

Ginny swallowed and nodded, self-control pooling back into her so that Hermione could almost watch the currents. "It's five minutes. I can take him for five minutes." She smiled shakily as Hermione nudged her in the chin.

"'Atta girl," Hermione said, with a smile and a last hug. "Give 'em hell."

Ginny choked on a laugh. "Right. See you. Go see what Ron's up to," she suggested with a bit more of her old glimmer back in her eye.

Hermione gave her a look. "Mm hm. See you, Ginny. Good luck," she breathed to Harry as she passed him on her way out of the room.

"Thanks," he muttered back, and she shut the door behind her.

Harry and Ginny were quite alone.

He took a deep breath. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked.

After a moment she shook her head. "No."

"Thanks." He started to make his way to the desk chair, then changed midway and sat on the end of the bed instead. "So."

She scooted up against the pillows and pulled her feet beneath her. "You have four and a half minutes."

"Ah. Right." Harry studied his hands, then looked around the room. It was the first time he'd ever been in her room. It was nice. Not girly enough to make Harry feel uncomfortable, but feminine enough to make him feel as though he were in some special, foreign country.

"Four."

It brought him back to his senses. "So. How are you?"

She looked at him as though he'd grown two heads, or had possibly turned into Malfoy. "How do I LOOK?"

"Beautiful," he said without thinking, and then cursed himself.

She made an irritated noise with her tongue and teeth, and gave him a disgusted look. "If you've got nothing better to say than lies—" She started to get off the bed.

"I'm not lying," Harry said, indignant. That had been unfair. "I was being serious."

"That's usually what's implied when one says they weren't lying," she told him, sounding bitter.

"Yeah. Okay." He was annoyed. This wasn't going where he wanted it to go. "I did mean it, though," he said quietly after a minute of frosty silence from Ginny, giving it one last stab. "I always wished I could cry well. I go all red and blotchy. It's not a pretty sight." He gave her a little half smile. "But you don't. And it's becoming."

She snorted, but sat back down. "Ron always tells me I match my hair," she said.

"Yeah, well, we both know Ron's a prat."

"True."

"How much time do I have left?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Let's just leave it at you say what you came to say, and leave."

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Where to begin?"

"You didn't have a beginning when you came here?"

"Ah—no."

"Did you have a plan at ALL?"

"Er... no."

She rolled her eyes. "Brilliant. This is just BRILLIANT. Well then. Why don't you just go on your merry way and let me get back to being miserable and non-blotchy in peace, because—"

"I liked kissing you, too," he blurted.

It stopped her. "What?" she said, blinking.

i Good one, Potter. /i

"I liked kissing you, too," he said slowly, and worked up enough courage to look her in the eye. "And I hoped like hell every second that there WASN'T really some other bloke you were gonna go try that on." He swallowed hard. "Because I don't want anyone kissing you, Ginny."

The light that had begun to shine in her eyes died. "You can stop the big brother routine, Harry," she informed him coldly. "I've got Ron who's MORE than willing to protect his little sister. Your duties as his best friend don't extend to that department."

"For God's sake," Harry muttered under his breath. Was she REALLY this thick, or was she just testing him? "Will you come off it Ginny? You're more than capable of taking care of yourself, you think I don't know that?"

"I'm not sure you do," she said nastily. "Why don't you want anyone kissing me, then, if I can take care of myself?" She folded her arms and looked at him stonily.

"I don't want anyone ELSE kissing you." His ears were burning. He felt like Ron. "I wouldn't mind doing it. Again." He coughed. "Myself."

"Oh." Slowly she unfolded her arms. He loved the way she looked when she was surprised. Her eyes were big and liquid and her lips parted faintly, and she automatically ALWAYS played with her hair when she was nervous—yep, there she went—

"You—you'd want to do it again?" she asked, sounding uncertain. She twined a curl around her forefinger.

Harry shook his head. "Wouldn't mind, no."

"Wouldn't mind, or would WANT to?"

He cracked a grin. "Would love to, actually."

"I see." She bit her lip. "So?"

"So what?"

"So DO it again, if you'd love to so much." Her eyes twinkled.

"Oh. That so."

"That so."

There was an awkward pause.

"You look a little uncomfortable, Mr. Potter," Ginny observed, leaning back against the pillows. "Why is that?" She smiled, and he chuckled.

"You've got a bit more practice at this than I do," he said sheepishly.

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean kissing, or the fact that I've liked you for six years?"

"Six?"

"Damn."

He laughed. "It's okay. It doesn't bother me as much as it did, if you can believe that."

Ginny felt like flying. "Somehow I can."

Another awkward pause. Then,

"Dammit, Harry Potter!" Ginny cried, sitting up. Her eyes flashed. "You ARE the world's biggest wanker, as well as the world's biggest tea—"

He kissed her, and she fell silent until he stopped.

"—se," she finished weakly.

"Please don't use my full name," he said, smiling, and staring at her. "It makes me twitchy."

"What would you do if I said it again?" She was falling in his eyes; they were still only inches apart.

"I might twitch in your direction.

She laughed, delighted, unable to help it. "Oh, might you." She laughed again.

He kissed her again.

"Don't laugh at me either," he said, trying to sound firm and failing.

"Sounds like there's lots of things I can't do."

""Might be."

Her eyes glimmered. "You'll have to write them out in a list, so I can do them as often as possible."

"You can't tell Ron."

"Now that I WOULDN'T do," she said immediately. Then, out of curiosity, "Why not?"

He fidgeted and stared at his knees. "He might not think I'm good enough for you." His voice was barely audible.

Ginny fought down the urge to hug him till he couldn't breathe. "Harry. Ron thinks the world of you. You know that. And I don't care what he thinks."

"I know you don't. I just think he might go mental at the fact that his best mate is dating his little sister." He didn't look at her.

"Is that what this is?"

"Dunno?"

"Are we dating?"

"Dunno." He still wasn't looking at her.

She took his chin and turned his face towards her. "Harry James Potter," she said clearly, and waited an ample amount of time to see if there would be a punishment for the use of his full name. (There wasn't one.) "Are you saying that you'd want to date me?"

"Wouldn't mind it, no."

"Wouldn't mind, or—"

"Want to. I'd want to." He met her eyes levelly.

"And what happened to the old Harry Potter who didn't want ANYONE getting too close? Aren't you afraid I'll be hurt if I'm with you?"

"You seemed to be hurt more without me," he observed, and wiped his thumb across the path her tears had taken. "And I hurt too much without you."

Ginny felt more tears swim dangerously. "Really?"

"Really."

"Since WHEN?" she couldn't help asking.

"I don't know. Since always. Since that night in the Chamber of secrets when you hugged me and burst into tears and you were ELEVEN." He smiled and traced her jaw. "You were pretty crying even then, even to a 12 year old. Still are, four years later."

Ginny laughed around a heart that had broken from happiness. "Good. Because I'm about to do it some more."

"I'm sorry," he said, and kissed away the new tears. "That's for the Potter, which, I did, by the way, notice."

Ginny grinned, laughed, and tears splashed down her cheeks. They were salty, and when Harry kissed her properly, he tasted the salt on her lips. "And that," he said when he was through, "was for the middle name."

"I'm very sorry," she said gravely, but her eyes danced.

Harry grinned. "Hey, Gin?"

"Yeah?"

"Wanna go play chess?"

No, what she REALLY wanted to do was stay up here and keep figuring out what went on the list of things she couldn't do. But in the end she figured too much of a good thing all at once, and so sudden, couldn't be healthy. So she smiled. "I would love to beat you in chess."

"Hey, I said play me, not beat me. How do you know you'll beat me?" He sounded affronted.

"Because I'm the only person in the world who's ever been able to beat Ron, that's how, and you lose to him all the time." She stood up and headed to the door.

"Fair enough," Harry agreed, following her. "Hey—" He reached out and grabbed her hand before she could turn the knob.

She turned. "Yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "I didn't just make a huge prat out of myself?"

She considered him. "Well, just then you did, thinking you had at all. But before?" She smiled at him, unable to believe someone could be this happy and not spontaneously combust like a filibuster. "No." She smoothed her thumb across his; he was still holding her hand. "Some things do just happen this easily, Harry," she said softly, staring at their hands. "Life's not always hard."

"Okay, good," he said, with a very relieved smile. "I was a little worried."

Ginny felt her heart melt at the seams, and wondered if by the end of the day she'd have any left. Then she wondered if that's what being in love meant—that when your heart overflowed from being so happy the runoff went to someone who you knew would keep it safe. Ginny reached up and hugged him hard. On her tiptoes, she came up to just under his chin. I love you, Harry, she thought fiercely into his shirt, so much—then she whispered, "Thank you."

He returned the hug after a moment. "Sure. You're welcome."

Then he opened the door, she followed him downstairs, and beat him soundly in chess, as predicted.


End file.
